


EXTERMINATOR

by ForeverMATT



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: Au_StreetPunks Ghost/Raph Ghostie SirConcons_AU SirConcons_StreetPunks, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:36:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4350794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForeverMATT/pseuds/ForeverMATT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[STREET PUNKS AU]<br/>Raph doesn't like bugs. Ghost kills one. [Ghost x Raph]</p>
            </blockquote>





	EXTERMINATOR

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have no ownership ties to TMNT or anything I may reference. The Street Punks in all its glory is credited to the amazing and talented SirConcon on dA.  
> Ghost is Donnie's doppelganger in SirConcon's Street Punks AU.

  
The world itself ceased to spin on its axis. Reality folded and warped into something fantastic. And, two sets of four mutant turtles co-existed in the infamous NYC.  
  
Half of those turtles, ninja brethren trained to fight alongside one another, to help the helpless. To rescue damsels and save the day from otherworldly phenomena. The other half of those turtles, punk brothers taught out of necessity, the art of pragmatism. From the streets, they took their lessons on the hardships of reality.  
  
Two sets of turtles, mutated. So similar, yet so different. Their fates entwined, their paths crossed. One calamitous evening brought them together, bound them for life- though it was hardly in a manner so cliche.  
  
In contrast, there's a reference of a Nameless Narrator and a mischievous would-be cult leader named Tyler Durden (but that's a tale for another time, from another fandom, in another life.) Two halves of a whole, joining forces despite remaining true to their opposing natures.  
  
A grand total of 8 mutated turtles befell the city of New York. Each one unique in their own right. Each with their own thoughts, emotions, goals, motives... and fears.  
  
_Katsaridaphobia_ is a fear that grips the heart and soul of one of those mutants.  
  
...  
  
The paradox of fear caught him in a steady hold, almost choking him.  
  
No matter how much his brain screamed for him to move, his feet remained rooted to the spot, as if weighed down by lead. Somatic paralysis would come into consideration, if one were to delve into the psychological aspects of the situation.  
  
Despite the mental commands and the array of warning signals shooting from his brain, his body continued with its lacking response, save for the slackening of his jaw and the racing of his lungs as he gulped in air and expelled it in a series of gasps. His heart hammered frantically, attempting to punch its way out of his chest as he watched his foe draw nearer.  
  
Micro-seconds ticked away, stretching time into its own brand of infinity.  
  
A false eternity: a curse for anyone with a quickening pulse.  
  
Closer and closer, the enemy came.  
  
Had this been a movie, there might be that iconic ' _Jaws_ ' theme- or at least a knockoff version of it. Or, if this were a horror film, this is where _Victim Number One_ would manage to tear her blouse and expose her breasts; then she'd run upstairs with the killer in tow.  
  
_Dumb bitch! The killer is BEHIND YOU!  
  
_ Everyone has seen a movie like that... and either laughed or face-palmed.  
  
The mutant known as Raphael had done the same when watching such a movie, but now, he could understand. There was a twinge of sympathy eating a path through his mind and body as he internally confessed that enough fear very well could extinguish rational thought and replace it with mindless activity: desperation.  
  
A need for escape, so strong...  
  
And _this_ was such a moment.  
  
Because, _damn_!  
  
He stared his foe down as it drew nearer.  
  
Closer.  
  
And closer, still...  
  
Inch by frightening inch.  
  
Fuck, it was right there!  
  
RIGHT-FUCKING-THERE!  
  
Any hint of would-be bravado for the young mutant was long gone. Panic ensured; it came in a torrent, manifested as ice in his veins, and shattered all reserves of dignity.  
  
When he finally summoned the courage to _move_ , he took a step back in retreat, pressing his carapace to the wall and wishing more than anything that he could simply phase through it.  
  
Almost against his will, his eyes screwed shut and he turned his head, unable to keep his gaze on the approaching monster.  
  
Because, that's what it was- the oncoming creature. The damnable beast...  
  
Something straight out of a horror movie- minus the bimbo that pointlessly runs upstairs. -Redundancy, in an iconic fashion. Because there's safety in predictability. Hence why film-junkies flock to the same movies, the same plots, the same actors...  
  
Standards and expectations: a realm of intrigue.  
  
Film and theatrics aside, the emerald-skinned mutant's knees buckled; his hands balled into fists to keep from shaking, though the rest of his body countered the effort with uncontrollable tremors.  
  
The ' _thing_ ' was closing in.  
  
The end was near.  
  
Curtain call.  
  
No encore.  
  
He tried to mentally prepare himself for the worst when- it happened so suddenly. Quicker than the wink of an eye, faster than a hummingbird's heartbeat, all irrational thought and dread was swept from his mind at the sound of a gunshot.  
  
The nearly simultaneous click, pop, and sonic boom of a bullet exploding from a chamber.  
  
A broken sound barrier.  
  
With a jolt, Raph snapped his eyes open to gauge the source of the blast; his eyes were alight with mixed emotion as his gaze came to rest on a tall, olive-skinned punk with tatted arms.  
  
In this punk turtle's grasp was a 9mm, held firm and steady, still pointing at its target.  
  
The previously fretting ninja turtle stared at the barrel of the gun for a prolonged moment before redirecting his attention towards said target. He smiled in relief upon seeing it annihilated. Because, right there on the wall, blood and guts spattered around it, was a cockroach gifted with a gaping hole right through its middle; its little legs, still twitching with dying nerves.  
  
In an almost gaudy fashion, Ghost gave the gun a western-style spin, the trigger guard looping around his finger a few times before the weapon was reflexively caught in a proper hold. With the twitch of a finger, the safety of on and the mutant slipped the 9 into a holster that was strapped to his thigh and partly hidden by the hem of his high-collared vest. The firearm stashed, Ghost crossed his arms and stole a glance at the red-masked ninja in a manner of silent greeting.  
  
In turn, Raph opted for staring vengefully at the remains of the roach for a decidedly satisfactory moment; then, he turned to regard the punk turtle-turned savior. Pivoting forward, Raph pitched himself towards Ghost and tackled him to the ground in a fierce hug- his gratitude evident.  
  
Sitting up and straddling the taller turtle's waist, the fiery young ninja thumbed over his shoulder at the dead bug, grinning and proclaiming: "Ya sure showed him, didn't ya? _Damn_ , Ghostie! That roach was all sneaky-sneaky on the wall. And you came in all quiet, cocked your gun, and _BLAM_! I mean, it was just so-" Raph jabbered with enthusiasm, eyes shining in admiration- though his rant went unfinished as the turtle beneath him reached up, caught Raph's head between his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.  
  
Pulling the emerald-skinned turtle close, Ghost went in with a soft press of the lips before retreating, only to return with a more hungry and aggressive approach, biting at Raph's lower lip, tugging belligerently, then plunging his tongue inside the inviting cavern of his partner's mouth.  
  
All thoughts on the roach and rescue were immediately forgotten as Raph allowed himself to be ravaged by the kiss, returning it with just as much vigor. He groaned appreciatively when he felt the scraping of teeth, the probing of a wet, hot tongue. Sloppy. Demanding. Mouths meshing, saliva traded... He rocked his hips instinctively as both passion and excitement grew in scale.  
  
The two parted for a fraction of a second, each gasping, taking in a fresh dose of oxygen before their beaks met once more, almost stealing air from one another in the process. Again and again, their mouths met, hungry and greedy. Lustful.  
  
Tactful and instinctual, ravenous.  
  
Borderline compulsory.  
  
Sure enough, hands came into play, roaming. 3-fingered touches that were anything but gentle. Pressing and pinching, grabbing. Bruising. Forceful.  
  
And, fuck, Raph enjoyed his position on top, despite giving authority to the tatted thug beneath him. Their every breath, every motion set him on high, senses ablaze and loins heating. His hands sought the belt of his clothed savior, fumbling between their bodies as he endeavored to strip his fellow mutant in a lustful frenzy.  
  
Hands on Raph's hips in a bruise-worthy grip, Ghost's patience thinned as he awaited the escalation of their activity.  
  
And their activity _would_ have escalated. Their positions _would_ have switched. With the nuance of nudity, the pending absence of clothing, a glorious act of intimacy _would_ have taken place. Thick, throbbing manhoods exposed, leaking bliss. Asses violated. Fucked.  
  
Grunting and groaning.  
  
This ain't the harlequin bullshit that passes for pornography. There's no cheesy and unnecessary declarations of love. No 50 Shades of FuckMeHarder. No Twilight. No cliche teenage drama. Just two mutated outcasts caught up in a moment of feeling. Desire.  
  
The need for release.  
  
Hot. Sweltering. Bodies colliding. Bumping Grinding. Slamming into one another like bitches in heat.  
  
Party-goers on Ecstasy.  
  
The mere imagery had Ghost assisting Raphael in rapid clothing-removal. In the moment, he could understand the usefulness of lacking attire, the annoyance of having to disrobe... Caught up in his excitement, the thug didn't bother containing deep, resounding churr that bubbled up. And Raph answered in kind.  
  
But...  
  
Shoulda.  
  
Woulda.  
  
Coulda.  
  
Their activities halted then. Pre-penetration. Pre-fuckery.  
  
Sex _would_ have been imminent, for sure, if only Raph hadn't felt a small, almost tickling sensation on his hand. But he _did_ feel it. Unfamiliar with said feeling, he peeked at the source of annoyance.  
  
And, sure enough, on his hand, contrasting starkly against his emerald flesh, was a small brown bug.  
  
At the sight of a second roach crawling across his hand, a fresh bout of panic seized the entirety of Raph's attention. In a hurry to rid himself of the small shelled menace, he jerked away from his partner, let out a terrified shriek, and flailed his arms in an almost comical manner; his frantic motions sent the bug sailing across the room, but his fright was still fresh and overpowering.  
  
Put off by the situation, Ghost roughly grabbed the red-banded ninja by the tails of his mask, frowning in distaste when the fabric simply slipped off of Raph's head rather than serving as a proper restraint. Carelessly tossing the red strip to the side, the punk turtle moved to sit up, his upper body raised and supported by firmly planted elbows. His left eye twitched, though the rest of his face melted into something passive- if not slightly irritated. He opened his mouth, but whatever he might have said would forever go unheard.  
  
Because, in an effort to further the distance between himself and the second cockroach, Raphael blindly scampered forth, not even getting to his feet first and incidentally knocking Ghost off balance and onto his clothed shell.  
  
Raph was bolting for doorway when Ghost rolled over, plastron-down, and grabbed the ninja by the ankle, effectively halting and tripping him.  
  
Raph collided harshly with the floor and verbally cursed his literal downfall.  
  
"It was just a bug," Ghost cut in, voice low.  
  
"It's a roach," Raph corrected, his breath coming in huffs.  
  
"It's a bug," Ghost repeated, then added: "There's _nothing_ it can do to you. But there's _a lot_ I'm going to do to you. Now... Sit. Fucking. Still."  
  
Raph glared defiantly at the demand. "Kill the roach first. Exterminate it! Fuck, I ain't gonna-"  
  
"Quit complaining, or I'll make you eat it."  
  
In response, Raph quieted down and contemplated Ghost's words. Then, he almost couldn't help asking: "Are we still talkin' about the roach?"


End file.
